


Split

by PossiblyAwesomeAO3



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Swearing, and "remus being a chaotic little shit", bugs crawl out of someone's skin, deceit is tired, hurt/comfort remus, no ships!!, remy is mentioned, sanders secret santa 2019, so i did all three, sorry if you also wanted some virgil, split fic, they asked for hurt/comfort roman, this was real fun to write, thomas is ten, tw remus exists, virgil doesn't exist yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 12:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PossiblyAwesomeAO3/pseuds/PossiblyAwesomeAO3
Summary: He didn't mean to, but it's irreversible, and now, there are two Creativities on opposite sides. Their heads are fuzzy, their clothes are different, and their name is no longer sitting right in the way it's supposed to. The way it has for the past ten years.
Relationships: None
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019





	Split

**Author's Note:**

> first year in this fandom, and i had to join in with the sanders secret santa event :) (honestly, the fact that i managed to revise this six different times and still got it done during finals season is a miracle in itself). 
> 
> Gift is for on-and-on-we-go-forever on tumblr! I hope you love it!

_ “I don’t understand, Pat--” _

_ “You’re scaring me, Romulus, you’re scaring Thomas, something’s wrong--”  _

_ “I’m just being me!” _

_ “No, this isn’t you, this can’t be you--”  _

_ “It is me! You just can’t handle the idea that not everything’s sunshine and rainbows anymore, there’s other stuff out there--” _

_ “You’re  _ ** _corrupted_ ** _ !”  _

****

When he comes to, he can tell he’s on the floor, and that’s pretty much it. He can recognize the cold wooden floor underneath him, but his head is spinning like never before, and that’s...that’s not supposed to happen. He’s a Side, he’s not supposed to get dizzy, he’s not a  _ person _ , he’s Creativity, he’s Rom-- 

He was struggling to open his eyes before, but now, his eyes fly open and he sits straight up, all of the dizziness momentarily dissipating to make way for sudden intense panic that floods his veins and sends his heart rate skyrocketing in his chest. He can vaguely register that Patton’s sitting on the floor in front of him, staring at him with wide, terrified, nearly unblinking eyes, but that’s not what he’s worried about. 

He’s Rom--

He’s  _ Rom _ \--

_ Rom _ \--

Why can’t he remember his name past those three little letters? It’s longer than that, he knows it’s longer than that, but it’s like there’s a random void in his brain where something used to be, and it’s just gone now. Panic closes around his throat so harshly that it feels like there’s an actual hand around his throat. Why can’t he remember? Is something wrong with him? What happened?  _ What’s his name _ ? 

“What did you  _ do _ ?” 

He looks up when he hears Logan’s familiar voice, but it doesn’t calm him any further. Logan, always calm and collected  _ Logic _ is standing slightly behind Patton, staring down at Patton with a look that he can only describe as scared. 

His head still feels terrifyingly spotty, but he knows for certain he has never, ever seen that look on Logan’s face. And he’s pretty sure none of the others ever have, either. 

Patton doesn’t take his eyes off of him, though, and it’s almost as if Logan never spoke at all. Patton’s breathing is unusually shallow, and as Creativity keeps his eyes on Patton, he realizes that Patton’s hands are shaking. 

“Morality.” Logan says, and Creativity can hear the tremor in his voice, even with how well he’s trying to hide it. Logan kneels on the floor next to Patton. “ _ Patton _ . Look at me. What happened?”

Patton’s eyes finally break away from Creativity, but instead of looking at Logan, he looks down to stare at his own shaking hands and doesn’t say a word. 

Logan bites his lip, and there’s another first for him -- nervousness. His eyes dart over to look at Creativity, and even though Creativity’s not used to Logan looking so confused and afraid, he can still feel Logan’s typical analytical stare scanning over him. Creativity gets the odd feeling that Logan isn’t quite sure what to make of him, but that can’t be right. Sure, he knows that Logan has never really appreciated it when he brought his own ideas to the table and derailed Logan’s plans to “optimize Thomas’ productivity” or whatever, but Logan’s spent nearly every day of the past ten years of Thomas’ life with Creativity, they know each other through and through, they know what they are. They’re Sides, he’s Creativity, he’s  _ Rom _ \--

He feels the name die in his thoughts again, and the panic leaves his throat only to settle in his stomach, twisting into nausea. If he can’t remember his name, and Logan can’t recognize him…

Creativity mimics Patton’s movements, glancing down to look at his hands. Where he’s expecting to see his familiar calluses that have built up from the tight hold he keeps on his sword and his shield, there’s nothing but smooth skin, as if these hands have never seen battle. He turns his hands to look at the backs of them, and finds similar pale, flawless skin, completely void of the familiar litter of small scars that he got back when he was new to the whole swordfighting thing and it was far too easy for any enemies he conjured up to exploit whatever points he left open. 

It’s strange in a way he can’t quite describe, and it makes his stomach turn. It feels like he’s woken up in the wrong body, and it only takes him a few more seconds to notice that the once brilliantly rainbow sash he typically sported had been reduced to just a simple red, his outfit had apparently been bleached stark white instead of the usual soft gray, and where the  _ hell _ were his ruffles--

“I don’t  _ know _ what I did!” 

Creativity snaps out of it, leaving his confusion over his strange outfit change behind for a moment at the sound of Patton’s voice shaking with the threat of tears. As Creativity looks up, Logan has backed away slightly, his hand still partially outstretched. Creativity pieces together that he must have tried to touch Patton’s shoulder and it all went wrong. Patton has his arms wrapped tightly around himself, as if he’s trying to physically hold himself together, like he could shatter at any moment. 

“I was...I was just talking to Romulus, and I was telling him that something was wrong, because it  _ was _ , and he was fighting me about it, and I yelled at him and...it was like the color just...it just  _ bled _ out of him, I don’t--” 

“Remember to breathe, Patton.” Logan says. His voice isn’t quite soft, but Logan has never been soft, and this is probably the closest he’ll ever get. 

Romulus. The name clicks back into his brain, and Creativity knows that’s supposed to be his name. It’s the one he’s answered for nearly his entire existence, and yet, something doesn’t sit right. He knows it’s supposed to be his name, but it feels...wrong, somehow, in the same way his body does. 

“No, Logan, you don’t...you didn’t see it.” Patton says, and reaches over to grab Logan’s hand, trying desperately to find any way to steady himself. Logan definitely doesn’t seem to like that development, but to his credit, he doesn’t pull away. Probably because if he did, Patton would likely to fall into an inconsolable mess, if he wasn’t there already. “He just...he just fell over, and the second he hit the floor, he was just gone, and I couldn’t do  _ anything _ \--” 

“So, if I’m getting this right, you told Romulus you thought he was wrong, and he just fell apart?” Logan asks, and immediately flinches as Patton chokes back a sob. 

“I didn’t mean to, I swear, whatever I did I didn’t mean to hurt him, I just wanted to know what was wrong and how to fix it!” Patton shouts. “I just wanted to help--”

“I believe you, Patton. I believe you,  _ please _ calm down.” Logan says, his own distress betraying his voice. “You have to calm down, you’re going to wake Thomas, and then we’ll all have much bigger problems on our hands.” 

“Bigger problems?” Patton asks. “I  _ killed _ Romulus, Logan! I don’t think it can get any worse than this!” 

“You didn’t kill Romulus.” Logan says, and that’s what finally makes Patton still. Creativity hears him take a shuddering breath, and watches as he looks up at Logan with a doubtful kind of hope in his eyes. 

“How do you know that?” 

“It’s impossible for you to kill Romulus. He’s a Side. We are not human, and therefore, we cannot die.” Logan says, and for once, Creativity’s grateful for Logan’s blunt, factual way of speaking. “Think about it. You’re suggesting that because you were worried about Romulus, you managed to completely wipe out Thomas’ sense of creativity. That’s not possible.” 

Something struck Creativity at those words, and he lurches forward in sudden desperation. He has to tell them. They’ve got it wrong, he’s right here, he’s okay, he can’t be dead. 

“You didn’t!” He says, and both Patton and Logan’s eyes immediately snap back to him. “I’m Creativity! I’m fine!” 

Logan raises an eyebrow, and Patton sucks in a sharp breath, as if Creativity just said something very wrong instead of assuring Patton that everything’s okay. 

“What?” Creativity asks, and desperation begins to creep into his voice. Sure, he might feel weird, and he might be dressed differently for reasons he can’t really understand, but he’s not...nothing’s wrong. It can’t be wrong. He’s fine. “I’m not dead, Patton, I’m right here.” 

“Romulus?” Patton asks, and his voice is small, like he knows the hint of hope his voice carries is false. 

Creativity flinches slightly at the name, and he can’t really put a finger on why. It still doesn’t click right, for some reason, and the nerves is his gut flare up again.

“I...I don’t...I think?” He says, and looks down at himself, at his strange change of clothes. He told the truth, he’s fine, but with the way they’re both staring at him, Creativity gets the horrible feeling this is way more than just an outfit change and a strange disconnect with his name. “I think that’s who I’m supposed to be? I know I’m Creativity, but...I’m…” 

“Let me get this straight.” Logan cuts in, and for once, Creativity is grateful. Making things that are confusing make sense is Logan’s area of expertise. “You _ are  _ Creativity, but you are  _ not _ Romulus?” 

Creativity slowly nods, and Patton brings his hands up to his mouth, staring at him with wide eyes, and Creativity wishes he would stop doing that. He feels like he’s a tragedy in motion when Patton looks at him like that, and it makes him even more uncomfortable when he can’t figure out why. 

“Is that even possible?” Patton asks, and turns his worried gaze to Logan, who looks just as perplexed. 

“Well, based off the evidence in front of us, it apparently is. In all fairness, new Sides have popped up before, perhaps this is just...a new way of that happening?” He says, and reaches up to rub his forehead, clearly frustrated. “Ten has been  _ such _ a complicated age, I really hope it doesn’t escalate from here--”

“Okay, so what do we do?” Patton asks. “I mean...how do we get Romulus back?” 

Creativity feels a sudden pang in his chest. He knows he’s supposed to be Romulus, that name is supposed to feel right in his head, but it just  _ doesn’t _ , and he can’t help it. He isn’t sure what he is now, but he doesn’t exactly feel  _ wrong _ . 

Is he supposed to? 

“I sincerely doubt we can.” Logan says, and that worry in Creativity’s stomach only worsens when Patton looks like all the air has been knocked right out of him, along with whatever hope he’d been clinging onto. 

“Why not?” He asks, and Logan thinks for a moment. 

“What exactly did you say to Romulus before he disappeared?” Logan asks. 

Creativity can’t exactly remember what it was. All he can remember is a sudden sharp pain, and the desperation to hold himself together but losing his grip anyway. Based on that and the way Patton’s face suddenly pales, he doubts it’s anything good. 

“I told...I told him he was…” Tears are collecting in Patton’s eyes, and he’s fighting to actually get the words out. “Corrupted. I told him he was corrupted.” 

Creativity’s stomach churns at the word, and he quickly wraps his arms tightly around himself as he lets his eyes close to try and stave off a wave of nausea.  _ Corrupted _ . The word lodges in his brain and stays there, and for the first time since he woke up, he feels like he can truly register the emptiness that the name Romulus is occupying. There was something there before, wasn’t there? Something that Patton didn’t like, something that scared him, maybe something that even scared Thomas. Was that what happened? Did he get to be too much and Patton had to cut him down to keep him from destroying them, from destroying Thomas? Was he broken? Was he just a ticking time bomb, and eventually, that empty space would fill back up, and Patton would have to pull him apart again? 

Logan’s saying something, but Creativity can only make out a few words.  _ Moral. Black. White. Acceptable. Not. Split. _ His ears are ringing. 

He’s dangerous. He’s a dangerous threat to Patton, to Thomas, to all of them. Whatever Patton did, it seems like it took as much out of him as it did to Creativity, and Creativity knows that Patton hurting means that Thomas will hurt, and maybe they shouldn’t keep him around anymore. Not if he’s a hazard, not if he can break, not if he can become  _ corrupted _ \--

“Creativity?” 

Creativity jolts, his head snapping up and his eyes opening to see both Patton and Logan in front of him, closer this time. Patton’s sitting in front of him with his hand gently resting on his shoulder, and Logan’s standing a bit behind him, with that strange look on his face that Creativity knows to be the closest Logan ever gets to looking genuinely concerned. 

Oh. He’s on the floor. When did that happen? 

A relieved half-smile comes over Patton’s face as Creativity’s eyes meet his, and Patton’s eyes are still wet. 

“There you are, kiddo. Are you alright?” He asks, and Creativity doesn’t see a reason to lie. 

“...I don’t know.” He says. “What happened?” 

“You fell after Patton...explained what he said to Romulus.” Logan says, and Creativity hears the careful pause, but doesn’t say a word about it. “We were afraid you may be splitting again.” 

“Splitting?” 

“My hypothesis as of right now is that Patton, in performing his role as Morality, found parts of Romulus that didn’t mesh well with Thomas’ concept of right and wrong.” Logan explains, reaching up to push his glasses back. Creativity can feel Patton’s hand tighten on his shoulder. “That clash caused Romulus to essentially split, separating which aspects of Creativity aligned with that moral compass, and which did not.” 

“...oh,” Creativity says. If he’s honest, half of that didn’t really make much sense to him, but he doesn’t want to think about it for much longer. Split suddenly feels like an ugly kind of word, one that makes his insides twist and makes him happy that he can’t quite remember what happened. He turns his eyes back to Patton, almost afraid to ask the question that’s lingering on his tongue. “So...I’m broken?” 

He must be. If he’s not whole, if he’s only part of what he used to be, than he has to be broken. He has to be a broken shard of a Side, one that’s playing at being whole, putting on the illusion that it’s all okay. Thomas will notice the difference, he has to. He’ll notice the difference and reject Creativity, or at the very least, not be satisfied with whatever half-baked ideas Creativity can throw out there. He’s not enough, he’s not enough, he will never be enough--

Creativity doesn’t realize that he’s tearing up until Patton suddenly pulls him forward into a hug, gently squeezing him in a way that tells him that Patton’s almost afraid he’ll break him if he hugs him too tightly. 

“Gosh,  _ no _ .” He says, and he sounds more sure of himself than he has since Creativity woke up. “No, no, you’re not broken, kiddo, not even close. I...I’m so sorry, this is all my fault,  _ please _ don’t blame yourself.”

Patton’s arms feel safe, and Creativity finds himself easily leaning into them. He wraps his arms around Patton, thankful for the security, and closes his eyes, letting the tears that finally escape his eyes roll down his cheeks. 

“This is all confusing, but you’re not broken.” Patton says. “You’re not. You’re _ good _ , I know you are, you’re Creativity, and it’s...it’s going to be okay, and gosh, I’m so  _ sorry _ , kiddo.” 

Logan clears his throat behind them, and Patton gently lets go. Creativity opens his eyes, not wanting him to let go, he felt safe for a moment, but Patton is looking towards Logan, who still wears that looks of almost-concern. 

“We still have one big problem.” He says, and shifts slightly, clasping his hands behind his back. “The part of Creativity that did not align with Thomas’ sense of right and wrong. It is bound to be out there somewhere. And given how you’ve performed your role as Morality in the past, intentionally or not, it’s highly likely that Side has ended up with Deceit.” 

Patton’s eyes immediately turn to the floor again, and for one of the first times Creativity can remember, Patton’s expression is unreadable. 

“I do not think I need to explain why this is an...undesirable situation.” Logan continues. “Creativity was partially restrained by morals before. A Creativity that has no such restraint may end up manifesting as something that Thomas is not prepared to handle, especially not at this age.” 

“...what can we do about that?” Patton asks. He sounds different from the way he did a moment before, the softness in his voice replaced by something like defeat, and, if Creativity’s hearing right, slight relief. “You said it yourself, Logan, we can’t put them back together. I mean, Deceit did put up the wall between us and him, if the other Side’s with him...maybe he’ll be blocked, too?” 

“That is a dangerous assumption, Patton, you must be aware of that.” Logan says, and Patton awkwardly rubbed his arm, looking like he’d rather be thinking about anything else. 

“Yeah, I know, but...I...I can’t, Logan.” 

“Patton--” 

“ _ Please _ .” Patton says, and he meets Logan’s eyes with an expression that’s teetering on the edge of begging. “I don’t think I can handle more than this. I can’t face this right now, and I know it makes me a coward, but I just...can we focus on this Creativity, and make sure he’s alright? Just for now?” 

Logan sets his jaw, clearly not happy about it, but Creativity can see something give behind his eyes. 

“Alright.” He relents, but even with that, Patton only partially relaxes as Logan turns his eyes back to Creativity. “So, if you’re not Romulus, then I suppose we’ll have to wait a while before we’ll have a name to refer to you by. ” 

Creativity bites his lip, and stares down at his hands for a second. 

“I could...I could keep being Romulus? Maybe if I keep calling myself that, it’ll stick again, I--” 

Creativity feels Patton’s hand on his shoulder again, and looks up to meet his eyes, to see Patton giving him a soft smile, the kind of smile that had a tinge of sadness behind it. 

“You remember how you first figured out your name, right?” He asks. 

Creativity thinks about it for a second, and realizes that yes, he does. Barely, but he does. He remembers those first few weeks after appearing, figuring out who he was, what being Creativity meant, that his job was to help Thomas, but that wasn’t what brought his name to him. What brought his name to him was that day in kindergarten, helping Thomas to come up with a game to play with his friends, and how they pretended to be dragons and princes and chased each other around the playground, their laughter dancing through the light breeze, and he knew that this was what he was. He was Creativity, he was the unrestrained love of all the world  _ could _ be, he was  _ Romulus _ . 

He nods. 

“Then you know you can’t force it.” Patton says, and there’s that hint of sadness again. Creativity gets the feeling that Patton’s reminded himself that he can’t force him to be Romulus, either, even if he wants to. Even if it would rid him of the guilt still hidden behind his voice. “It’ll come when you’re ready for it.” 

“What if I’m never ready for it?” Creativity asks, and saying it out loud makes it worse. He can’t ignore that he’s definitely not supposed to be like this. He’s supposed to be Romulus, and what if...what if he never breaks away from that? What if he can never be anything other than a broken piece of another Side, one that doesn’t deserve a name of his own?

“Well, I suppose that is a possibility--”

“ _ Logan _ .” Patton gently chides, and Logan sighs. 

“What? I’m merely pointing out the fats of the situation. This is unprecedented. We do not know what will come of this. It could very well be that this Creativity will never receive his own name. We do not know--” 

“And the facts are usually great, Lo, but not right now.” Patton says. “He’s scared. Let’s not scare him any further?” 

Creativity has a sneaking suspicion that he’s not the only one who’s scared, based on the way Patton’s hand is curled into a tight fist, like he’s trying to keep it from shaking. Logan’s eyes seem to land on Patton’s hand, too, and once again, he relents. 

“Fine. I’m going to go check on whether or not all of this negative emotion has disturbed Thomas during his sleep.” Logan says, and he says the word emotion like it’s a disease. “Without Creativity manning his dreams, there is a high probability that things may get unpleasant.” 

“Okay. Don’t stay up too late.” Patton says, as if it’s not already late. There’s an unlikely chance any of them will get to sleep after what’s happened, but regardless, Logan nods, and sinks out of the room. Creativity adds that to the list of things he’s freaking out about -- he’s not even doing his own job. Logan is. 

Man, Thomas is going to have some strangely mathematical dreams tonight if his emotions aren’t too out of control. 

Patton’s too good at reading emotions. He takes one look at Creativity’s face and that same sad smile comes back over his face as he reaches forward to take Creativity’s hand, almost as if to remind him that he’s there.

“Hey, don’t worry. No one knows how to stamp out emotions like Logan does, he’ll get things under control.” He says. While that’s the most recent addition to Creativity’s worry list, however, it’s not the one at the front of his mind. 

“...he’s right. Maybe I won’t get a name.” Creativity starts, and he’s absolutely certain that Patton can feel the slight tremor in his hands. No name means never really being complete. It means not fully understanding what he is, who he is, what he’s supposed to be for Thomas. It means being stuck as just a half until they find the other half -- if they even want to find him, by the way Logan was talking about him. Patton shakes his head. 

“No, you’ll get your name. I’m sure of it.” He says.

“How are you so sure?” Creativity asks, because really, he isn’t sure himself. 

“Because it doesn’t matter where you came from, or who you used to be.” Patton says, and squeezes his hand. “You’re  _ whole _ . You’re  _ good _ . You’re a  _ Side _ , you have to be able to feel that. I can feel it. You’re Creativity, just like Romulus was, even if how you got here is...not exactly ordinary. You’ll get your name.” 

And maybe it will fade with time, but for that moment, Creativity believes him. 

***

When Deceit heard the crash and the subsequent screaming, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

It’s late, he’s been rudely awakened, and he’s ready to outright murder someone. What the hell are the others doing up this late making a racket for, Remy’s going to have a  _ cow _ \-- 

There’s another Side in his domain. 

Deceit pauses, his anger quickly fading into a strange kind of curiosity as he rubs his eyes to be certain he’s not hallucinating. 

Nope. Even when he pulls his hands away from his eyes, the strange Side is still there, with his back facing him. He’s slamming a morningstar into the all-too-familiar wall Deceit himself put up to block himself from the others, a pitch black barrier that nothing could pass through, but the Side keeps hitting it over and over, trying to force his way out. He screams every time the morningstar makes contact, as if that’s going to help anything, but doesn’t even make a dent. 

The first thing that Deceit notices, however, is that the Side bears a striking resemblance to Romulus -- well, they all do, they all have the same face, but it’s something in the clothes. He, too, dresses like some kind of royal out of one of Thomas’ favorite storybooks, but his ensemble looks strangely demented. It’s all black, a striking contrast from Romulus, and he has a sash like Romulus’, but it’s a sickly green color. There’s a stripe of gray that sticks out amongst the usual soft brown hair that they all share, which looks even stranger next to their shared young face. 

“Let me  _ in _ !” The Side shrieks, and slams his weapon into the barrier with such a force that Deceit’s surprised the jolt of contact doesn’t break his arms. “Let me in, let me in,  _ letmeinletmeinletmeinletmein _ \--” 

The Side keeps swinging, faster now, with no clear intention of stopping any time soon. His screeching is starting to sound like the noise itself could penetrate the barrier, and even though Deceit knows that’s impossible, he would like to get some sleep at some point tonight. 

Deceit walks up behind the Side, not even bothering to warn him before he grabs the back of his shirt, yanking him backwards from the wall, just far enough that he can’t reach it with his morningstar. 

“Alright, what exactly is going on--” Deceit starts, but quickly cuts himself off with a yelp as the Side suddenly snaps his neck around a full 180 degrees, and bites Deceit’s hand without a second thought. 

Deceit yanks his hand back instinctively with a swear, and before he’s even looked back up, the Side’s back to slamming his weapon against the wall, and his screams are somehow even louder, undeterred from his apparent mission. Deceit grits his teeth. 

Fine. Two can play at this game. 

Deceit takes a breath, rolls his shoulders back, and straightens his spine, and four more arms appear from his torso. He’s not been practicing this party trick for very long, but maneuvering the extra limbs has quickly become second nature, to the point where he almost can’t tell the difference. 

He reaches forward again, being careful to avoid grabbing a hold of the Side in any place where he could easily bite him. Four of his hands grab on to the Side’s arms, effectively holding back his weapon, and his lower arms wrap around the Side’s torso, keeping him in place. Or, at least, as well as they can, because the very second the Side feels Deceit’s hands on him, he starts thrashing around wildly, and Deceit can barely keep a hold of him even with the extra help. 

“Oh my god, stop it, you little  _ pest _ \--” 

“Let me  ** _go_ ** !” The Side screeches, and attempts to shove his morningstar into Deceit’s head, but only manages to knock his hat slightly askew. “Get off, I need to get back, they  _ need  _ me--!” 

“Well, you’ll certainly get through the barrier by throwing a tantrum like a child.” Deceit says, his voice dripping with his signature sarcasm as he ignores the fact that technically, they are all children. “It seems to be working just fine for you.” 

“ _ Fuck _ you.” The Side spits, and woah, okay, that’s a new word to add to Thomas’ vocabulary. “No stupid barrier’s gonna’ stop me, I’m Creativity!” 

It takes a lot to catch Deceit off-guard, and unfortunately, this is one of those things. 

He blanches for a moment, because yes, this Side does look at bit like Romulus, but he’s very clearly  _ not _ . Romulus wouldn’t have snapped his own neck like that just to get a chance to bite Deceit. Romulus wouldn’t be borderline feral in the way he fights against Deceit’s grip, almost like he’s trying to claw his way out of it. Romulus wouldn’t be trying to bring down the barrier at all. Despite knowing all of this, Deceit can’t help but ask the question anyway. 

“Romulus?” 

“No!” The Side exclaims, but, to Deceit’s relief, he hesitates for a moment and his thrashing subsides. “At least, I don’t think so? Name’s not clicking right. But I  _ am _ Creativity!” 

_ The name’s not clicking right? _

Deceit sets his jaw. There’s more to be uncovered here, and this Side is clearly the center of it. 

“...alright, well, then something’s clearly  <strike> right </strike> , here.” Deceit says. “I’ll let you go, but only if you promise you’ll stop screeching like you’re being murdered.” 

The Side’s frown turns into a slight grin, as he turns his head not quite 180 degrees, but enough to make a sickening cracking noise that makes Deceit cringe. 

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” He says, and Deceit sighs. 

“And I  <strike> can’t </strike> hold you here as long as I see fit. Make a choice.” 

The Side’s grin turns back into a frown -- well, more of a disappointed pout, but Deceit doesn’t budge. He’s good at waiting, after all, and he gets the sneaking suspicion that’s something else this Side and Romulus have in common -- very little patience. 

Sure enough, barely a minute passes before the Side lets out an over-exaggerated groan. He unexpectedly goes completely limp in Deceit’s arms as part of the dramatic act, and Deceit nearly drops him with the sudden shift in weight, but the Side doesn’t seem to care. 

“Fiiiiiiiiine.” He says, but that’s not good enough for Deceit. He’s dealt with Romulus enough to know that if this Side is even half of who Romulus is, he’s very likely to be a good actor, and will turn around and go back to whatever he was doing within ten seconds. Which Deceit would usually applaud, but right now, that’s not the outcome he’s hoping to get. 

“Fine what?” 

“I’ll stop screaming. For now.” The Side huffs, and Deceit guesses that’s probably the best he’s going to get. “Buzzkill.” 

“I’d rather be  <strike> deaf </strike> than be  <strike> a buzzkill </strike> .” Deceit fires back, but lets the Side go. The Side scrambles away from him, but not in a way that Deceit thinks is fearful. More in a way that suggests his erratic movement is just something this one...does. Maybe something he finds fun. 

The Side turns to face him right as he lets his extra limbs slip away, and the Side’s eyes widen. 

“Whoa. How do you do that? Can you teach me how to do that?” The Side asks, all signs of any annoyance or anger temporarily disappearing. “I want more arms!” 

“ <strike> Of course </strike> I could teach you.” Deceit says, crossing his two normal arms of his chest. “I’d  <strike> love </strike> to do that, and that’s  <strike> definitely </strike> what we should be focusing on right now.” 

“I know, right?” The Side grins, a lopsided kind of thing, and Deceit resists the urge to slap him. “Could do so much with more arms. Oh, if you chop them off, would they grow back? Or would it just leave a buncha’ bloody stumps all over you? If you cut off your normal arms would the others smoosh up and replace them, or would you just be stuck --”

“Stop.” Deceit says. “<strike>I </strike> <strike> care so much </strike> about my arms right now. Why don’t you tell me exactly who you’re supposed to be?” 

“Uh, are you dumb, or somethin’?” The Side asks, and lets the spiked end of his morningstar fall to the ground, leaning against it. “I told you. I’m Creativity! Y’know, the ideas? The fun one? Don’t have to bend to the dumb rules of reality an’ stuff?” 

“Yes, well, that’s  <strike> possible </strike> .” Deceit frowns. “ _ Romulus _ is Creativity, and you also said that you’re not Romulus.” 

“Want me to prove it?” The Side asks, and doesn’t even wait for Deceit to respond before he snaps his fingers, and several dozen centipedes burrow out from his left arm, and start crawling up and down it. “Ta-da! Creepy crawlies!” 

Deceit can’t help it -- he recoils. It’s not that he’s afraid of a few bugs that he could easily squish underfoot, but rather, the fact that not-Romulus seems to enjoy this kind of thing. They weren’t exactly close, but Deceit knew Romulus, and while he wasn’t afraid to delve into some creepier notions, openly enjoying watching bugs crawl out from his own skin was not on that list. He looks back and forth between the wriggling bugs and the Side, a few pieces clicking together, but nowhere near enough to get the full picture. 

“See?” The Side says. “Is that proof? ‘Cause, y’know, if not, I could make ‘em bloodthirsty! Chop off my finger and watch them devour it! Or, hey, maybe we could test out my idea ‘bout your arms, see if they really do grow back--” 

“Alright, I <strike>don't</strike> get it.” Deceit says. “You  <strike> can’t </strike> summon things. Anything you want, apparently. From anywhere you want.” 

“Yep!” The Side said, his grin somehow stretching further across his face. “I could bring in some more stuff! There’s this new snack I wanna’ try--” 

“Send the centipedes away, Creativity.” Deceit sighs, reaching up to rub his forehead. It’s too late at night for this. There’s now two Creativities, if Romulus is still around over on the light side of the operation. Fantastic. Because one wasn’t enough of a handful. 

“Aww, but they’re fun--”

“Creativity.” 

Creativity pulls the same overdramatic groan as he did earlier, but he relents, snapping his fingers a second time. Deceit cringes as every single one of the centipedes explode, leaving small traces of bug guts in random spots on Creativity’s arm. He doesn’t seem to care. 

“So the centipedes are enough? Kinda disappointing, really, I still haven’t tested my limits yet, I could probably do more--”  
  
“Please <strike>do</strike>.” Deceit mutters. “How is this even possible? There should only be one Creativity, and Romulus--”

“Ohhhh, right. I forgot. You weren’t there.” Creativity says, and the grin that splits his face is one that causes a heavy dread to settle at the bottom of Deceit’s stomach.  _ What happened? _ “You weren’t there when he  _ split  _ him.” 

“Split?” 

“Yeah!” Creativity says. “Turns out, we can split right down the middle! And you feel every single little tear when it happens, the whole way down! And it  _ hurts _ ! A  _ lot _ ! My throat’s still kinda’ sore and I wasn’t even the one screaming!” 

Deceit feels like he might be sick. Sure, they don’t know everything about what they are or what could happen to any of them (he’s still not 100% sure how they’re even created in the first place), but splitting directly down the middle?  _ Romulus _ split straight down the middle? And became this strange, feral little monster of a Side who seemed to relish in pain rather than shy away from it? 

He swallows his sudden nerves as best as he can. This may be an unprecedented situation, but he’s Deceit, damn it, and he’s not about to let something scary unsettle him. He’s a Dark Side. The first and...well, he supposes not the only one anymore, if the fact that this Creativity was sent to him has anything to say about it. 

“Alright, so if you were split in two, what exactly are you doing over here instead of with the others?” He asks, and is grateful to hear that he’s managed to keep his voice level. He sounds almost bored, actually. “You’re Creativity, right? Aren’t you supposed to be important?” 

The crooked grin on the Side’s face is immediately replaced by a sunken frown. Bingo. Deceit’s not sure what exactly he’s tapped into, but with a shift like that, this is bound to have some answers. The Side looks down at his morningstar, the spiked end resting on the floor, and half-heartedly kicks at it. He doesn’t seem to care that his foot makes contact with a particularly sharp spike. 

“I  _ am _ important. Thomas needs me just as much as he needs the pretty half that  _ Patton  _ likes.” He mutters, and Deceit can see his knuckles turning white around the handle of his morningstar. “He says I’m bad for Thomas. Says I’m bad for all of us. Because he doesn’t like that Thomas wants more than just sunshine and a buncha’ stupid rainbows.” 

Deceit feels a foreign pang of sympathy. He knows exactly what this Side must be feeling. It hadn’t been too long ago that he’d been deemed as “bad for Thomas” and sent away by Patton. Patton, who just assumed everything he did was right. Patton, who never took other perspectives into account. Patton, who the others would blindly follow even if meant sacrificing opportunity for Thomas in the name of “doing the right thing”. 

It’s honestly ironic that Patton wears glasses, when he’s so blind to what’s right in front of him. 

“He  _ can’t _ just kick me out!” Creativity shouts, snapping Deceit out of his own inner tangent against Morality. “I’m not wrong! I’m not bad! I’m just different, and Patton can’t just say that anything different is bad and throw me out! He can’t! I’m not...I’m not evil. I’m  _ not. _ ” 

Creativity almost sounds like he’s choking on his words, and there’s that pang of sympathy again as he sinks to the floor, staring blankly ahead of him. 

“I’m not evil.” Creativity repeats. “I’m not...right?” 

Alright, that’s it. Creativity’s voice sounds like it’s on the edge of breaking, and yeah, Deceit initially put up the wall to be alone, but he doesn’t give a damn about that anymore. He’s angry. Angry at whatever force decided to split Romulus. Angry at Patton for sending this Side away when he’s barely existed for long enough to even properly understand what a Side is. Angry at the others for letting the idea that whoever’s on the dark side of things is evil. Angry at Thomas, even, for having such a black-and-white view of everything. He understands he’s  _ ten _ , but in the moment, he doesn’t really give a damn. 

“You’re not evil.” Deceit says, and for once, the truth comes easier to him than a lie. Creativity blinks up at him, his eyes vaguely glassy with the start of unexpected tears. “You’re like me. You’re just a little darker than the others, and God knows Patton’s head will explode if everything’s not all sunshine-y and bright in his little world.” 

Creativity’s quiet for a moment, a moment that Deceit can guess he won’t be getting much of in the future. He already knows that he’s going to miss the quiet, but he doesn’t care. This Side is alone, this Side has been banished, thrown out over the role he didn’t decide to take up, and Deceit knows how much it hurts to just let another Side go through it alone. 

“I like the dark.” Creativity mumbles, and wipes at his eyes. “You can’t see everything. Lots more stuff could be hiding in the dark. There’s a million possibilities.” 

“<strike>Exactly</strike>.” Deceit says, even though that’s not exactly how he would put it. He likes that _ he _ could be hiding in the dark, he and all of Thomas’s secrets along with him, not that anything else could be hiding in there with him, but if it helps Creativity, then whatever. To each their own. “It’s not going to be so bad.” 

He holds a gloved hand out in Creativity’s direction, and to his surprise, Creativity takes it without hesitation. Deceit pulls him back up to his feet, and Creativity hesitates a few seconds before speaking again. 

“Do you think Thomas will still listen to me if I’m over here?” 

Deceit’s gut reaction is to tell him that he probably won’t, given the fact that Thomas rarely ever listens to him, even when it would benefit them all, even if it’s just a little white lie that wouldn’t harm anyone. Patton’s pesky that way. He opens his mouth to tell Creativity this, when a glint over on the wall catches his eye. 

He lets go of Creativity’s hand and feels Creativity’s curious eyes follow him as he walks up to the wall, and brushes his fingers over the misshapen, shallow dent left in the wall. Nothing’s supposed to be able to break through this wall. Deceit doesn’t know how, but he knows it wasn’t the morningstar that did this. 

He looks back at Creativity, who’s eyes have locked onto the dent in surprise. 

“Was that  _ me _ ?” He asks, seemingly surprised at his own power. Deceit’s surprised, yes, but not as much as he probably should be. Romulus always did have the strongest influence with Thomas. He was the one who Thomas would listen to the most, and because of that, had the most power out of all of them.

Deceit supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised at all. 

“Seems like that voice of yours has a tendency to force things to pay attention.” Deceit muses, and covers the dent entirely with his hand. When he brings his hand away, the dent is gone, as if it were never there in the first place. “Even things that aren’t supposed to listen.” 

“Wha-- hey!” Creativity protests, a scowl appearing over his face. “Not fair! You can’t just fix what I destroy, I worked hard to get that wall to come down--” 

“It’s not time for this wall to come down.” Deceit says. It’s impressive that Creativity can do this, yes, but Deceit’s not willing for it to happen. Not yet. “There will be a time, but not yet.” 

“Why not?” Creativity asks. “Don’t you want to be listened to? Don’t you want to force Patton to shut up, to storm in there and show Thomas that just because we’re dark doesn’t mean--” 

“I  _ said _ , there will be a time.” Deceit says, and he must have activated his other little party trick without realizing it, because Creativity’s hand has come up to fly over his mouth, effectively cutting him off. “You think Thomas will listen to us just because we come storming in and demanding it? No. Patton won’t let him. None of the others will let him. If anything, we’ll just prove Patton right and scare him. He has to be ready to come to terms with us by himself.” 

Creativity reaches up to force his other hand away from his mouth, pinning it down by his side. 

“And how long’s that gonna’ take?” Creativity asks, and Deceit doesn’t have an answer for him. 

“I don’t know.” He says, and turns away from the wall. “It might happen tomorrow. It might happen years from now. A million more Sides could pop up and disappear before he’s ready to deal with us.”

Creativity’s expression is a strange mix of heartbreak, fury, and impatience, but Deceit holds his hand out to him to lead him away from the wall. Best to get him further into the darkness faster so he can get used to it. Learn not to hate it. Learn to embrace it. And letting him stick around the wall where he could get a million other ideas on how to break it down won’t be good for either of them. 

“I’ll promise you this, and I don’t often make promises.” Deceit says. “When your time comes to be heard, nothing and no one will be able to silence you.” 

Creativity hesitates for a moment, but grabs his hand. 

“Alright. But it better not take super long.” 

Deceit’s face breaks into a rare smile, still small enough to barely be noticed as he starts leading Creativity away from the wall. Patton ought to watch out who he starts throwing over here. 

Too many, and he’s going to have an uprising on his hands. 


End file.
